The Things Left Behind
by pleasant-hell
Summary: She has a life far away, but a trip back to Lima reminds Santana what she used to have. At her high school reunion, Santana is forced to reconcile her present with her past.
1. Chapter 1

This is another collaboration with yourKat. It will be posted in chapters and is significantly longer than the last story we wrote together. Enjoy.

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><p>She walked down the hallway at a languid pace. Her long fingers ran lightly over the red lockers, over the creases and the air vents. She walked as if she didn't have anywhere to go. She tilted her head to the side in deep thought, the end of her ponytail brushing against the base of her neck.<p>

She wasn't ready to be here, but she wasn't ready to be anywhere else yet either. So she continued to walk, one foot in front of the other to a beat that could only be heard in her head. Her sneakers didn't make a sound on the generic white tile. Occasionally she could hear a straggling student or teacher, but nothing above a faint whisper.

That was until she heard, "I thought I'd find you here."

She sighed. And it was heavy and forlorn as it escaped past her slightly parted lips. "What do you want, Puck?"

His heavy footsteps approached the place where she had stopped, frozen to the floor. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

He was just over her left shoulder now. She could so easily turn around, she could look him in the eye and proclaim exactly how great she was. She could stare him down until he backed off and left her alone. She could utilize what little power she had left as the tough girl.

Instead, her shoulders sunk lower on her frame. Another sigh. She couldn't look him in the eye - because that would mean lying, and she just didn't have the energy for it anymore.

"Sometimes..." she trailed off, not sure where she was going with her statement. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she envisioned the disappointed glances and the whispers and the slamming doors once more. Suddenly, anger surged through her and she spun around to face him. Tears were welling up in her eyes. "Isn't it okay to just not be okay sometimes?"

His reaction was less than she expected. She expected something, but what she got was nothing. He just looked at her with the same sympathetic eyes he had before. His hands in his faded jean pockets and his shoulders low in a non-confrontational manner. He just stood there before she turned around again, resuming her idle walk through the school.

"Do you want to go for some coffee or something?" he asked, awkwardly.

She scoffed, "Coffee Puck?"

He rolled his eyes as he slowly walked behind her, "Whatever. I have some beer stashed in my basement."

Now he was speaking her language. Sure, sometimes she was okay - but now was not one of those times. She was scowling to hide the gaping hole in her gut. Her jaw was set so that no one would even dare to ask her if she was okay.

Except for two people. One of them being the boy walking behind her.

And the other? Well, she hadn't asked Santana if she was okay in years.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Puck had effectively managed to get Santana more inebriated than she had been since her wildest days in college.<p>

But if there was one time in a person's life when they were allowed to be sufficiently fucked up, it was when they were faced with a ten-year class reunion - from hell.

"What was the hottest make out sesh you had in high school?" The words barely made it coherently across Santana's slurring tongue, but Puck knew how to translate Drunken Santana Speak.

He leaned his head back against the wall. His legs were crossed in front of him on the floor, and Santana was leaning her head back over the side of the couch, her own legs propped up against the cushions. He thought for a few moments before succinctly answering, "Berry."

"Whoa," Santana said, her voice low and maybe just a little impressed. "Berry?"

"Why are you so surprised? I heard you totally tapped that once."

"Yeah, okay," Santana agreed. "Once, but I was drunk. And when you run into old classmates, sometimes things just happen. Feelings and shit."

There was a dense silence between them for a while. Santana laid her legs out straight and looked at the cracking ceiling. She had no idea why she had even come. She knew that it was a bad idea. She was torturing herself.

In Seattle, she had a huge loft. She had an insanely lucrative business. She had a BMW and a dog that she wished she could have brought with her. She had...she had someone. Sort of. She had someone who was chasing her around and trying to get her to actually go out on a date - someone who would take care of her given the chance.

At that moment, Puck chose to speak. "You know she's here, right?"

Santana emptied the last of the beer from her can and threw it across the room where the collection of cans was piling up. She reached into the cooler between them and got another one. "Of course I fucking know. Everyone I run into tells me that she's here. I know what time her fucking plane landed."

"Are you going to say anything?" Puck asked, standing to grab a towel from the shelf by the washing machine. He dropped it on the ground to mop up the mess their projective beer cans were making with his foot. Other people were living in this house too and he didn't want them to know that there was a dripping trail of beer from the couch to the corner of the room.

Santana sighed. She pulled her knees back to her chest and dropped her forehead against them. She sighed again. "I don't know."

Suddenly, the thought of seeing Brittany's beautiful blonde hair and her bright blue eyes was the only thing in her mind. It had been present, obviously, for weeks now - ever since that damning invitation had arrived on her doorstep. But now? It was roiling through her brainwaves and her chest and she could barely breathe - let alone form tangible thoughts of anything else. Her stomach was rolling and her heart was clenching painfully.

She was barely able to gasp out, "Trashcan!" And Puck managed to get it to her side before she was emptying the contents of her stomach into it, her diaphragm heaving painfully.

Puck pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. Her ponytail was loose and hardly up to Sue Sylvester standards, but that wasn't the issue at hand. "Hey," he said, his voice soft and low. "It's gonna be okay."

Santana heard him. And she understood what he was trying to do. It was kind, the act of comforting her in this pathetic state of existence she currently found herself in - drunk and throwing up in Puck's basement as if they were sixteen or seventeen or eighteen and children with nothing more or less important than who they were or weren't hooking up with that week.

Or who they were falling in love with...

It felt like a lifetime of hurt and heartbreak, leaving her body in that moment. And so Santana was grateful that he was there.

She flopped back onto the couch and her eyes ran the length of the crack in the ceiling. She took a deep breath, trying to quell the quiet riot in her stomach. "You should get that fixed."

Puck's eyes rose to the ceiling and nodded. "I know. I'll probably do it this weekend. I don't have much time during the week."

She knew that they were both ignoring the elephant in the room. They'd lanced the surface of her problems and then went on to ignore them just like they used to. Just like in high school.

The dryer buzzed, interrupting the thin silence in the room.

Puck stood to take care of the laundry. He took the trashcan with him. Santana shook her head, attempting to clear it once more, before shakily swinging her legs down to the floor. She stood. "Hey," she said, "I'm just gonna head back to my hotel."

"Just let me take these clothes upstairs to my sister's room, I'll drive you."

"No," Santana quickly interrupted him. "I just...I need to clear my head."

"You're fucking wasted, just sleep here," Puck chastised, rolling his eyes.

"I feel fine." Her voice slurred. "I'll just walk to my hotel."

Puck groaned. "Santana, don't be fucking difficult, okay?"

She was already halfway up the stairs before he caught up to her. "I need to sleep," she said.

"Then sleep here."

"I'm going to my hotel room," she emphasized the words to the best of her ability. And when Puck grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around, he saw the brokenness in her eyes, the defeated glaze that was plainly written across her face. "Please, just let me go..."

He didn't know if she was talking to him or someone else.

"I'll take you to your hotel," he said, "but I'm not letting you walk there."

"Fine," she muttered, falling limply against his strong chest. He bent down and wrapped his arms under her legs, easily lifting her. "It's not like you ever listened to anyone else when we were kids."

He smiled against her hair. And he would have argued back, but she was right. And she was also already passed out.

* * *

><p>She became conscious about halfway to the hotel. She didn't feel any better, but she didn't feel any worse - so she'd take that as a win.<p>

Santana waved Puck off when he wanted to walk her to her room. She pulled down the visor and tweaked her hair before sliding out of his truck.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning at the brunch thing?" he asked.

She nodded and snorted, "Whose idea was brunch?"

He smirked. "One guess."

"No one should have let Berry be the head of the reunion committee." They shared an eye roll before she slammed the door.

It was colder outside than she remembered, but it didn't matter much. The walk to the sliding doors of the hotel wasn't that far.

The second she stepped inside though, she felt her skin tingle. It was like someone electrified her body. Part of her knew what it was, and part of her hoped that the other part was wrong.

Her keycard dug almost painfully into Santana's palm as she walked in as straight a line as she could manage to the elevators, pointedly ignoring the high-backed chairs littering the lobby floor.

"Fuck..." she whispered under her breath. Not in this state, not like this. Not now, of all times.

The clicking of expensive designer heels slowly approached her from behind, and Santana's eyes squeezed shut. The doors opened, and she walked inside, leaning heavily against the elevator wall and pressing the button for her floor.

Another body had slipped inside and was now standing in the middle of the elevator.

"Santana," the woman's voice was soft, soothing - just like it had always been.

The millionth sigh of the evening escaped Santana's lips, and she finally opened her eyes, allowing her head to swing around in the direction of her fellow elevator guest. "What are you doing here, Gabby?"

She realized in that moment how grossly difficult it was to escape her past - and her present. Clearly, alcohol wasn't even up to the task.

"Our last conversation before you left," Gabby began, stepping forward and lightly running her hand up and down Santana's exposed arm. It felt good, and part of Santana's brain protested against the pleasure she received from the simple touch - rebelled against the fact that it was coming from the wrong blonde. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," she said. "You shouldn't have to face this kind of situation alone."

Ready and willing to take care of her - if only Santana would give her the chance.

Santana shrunk away from the touch. "I told you that I wanted to do it alone."

Gabby didn't flinch at the words. She was used to Santana's emotional isolationist behaviors. It didn't mean she liked it, but she knew that she could handle it. "Well, I got a room of my own. So don't worry about that." She reached forward and pressed the button for the floor above Santana's. "Just know that I'm in room 715 if you need me."

Santana watched the number on the LED panel above the floor buttons slowly climb as they rose. "What are you going to do all week?"

Gabby smiled. "I don't know. Take in the Lima sights."

Santana chuckled, "What are you going to do the other six days and twenty hours?"

"I have a lot of reading to catch up on," Gabby stated with a light shrug. "It's my first week off in a year. I'm going to read about things that have nothing to do with medicine, probably pick up a few romance novels."

The doors opened to Santana's floor, and she stepped out. She wasn't sure what to say to the other woman. She shoved her hands into her pockets and licked her lips. "Well, I..."

Gabby smiled sweetly. "Sweet dreams, Santana."

Before Santana could reply, the doors slid closed.

Santana's feet dragged underneath her as she made her way to her room. She unlocked it and slipped inside before pressing back against the door and sinking to the floor, memories assaulting her mind and making her wish - not for the first time that night - that she could be a fully functioning adult, that her past would let her rest, that...

Maybe she could move on and be happy with someone as sweet as the girl in the elevator, the girl ready and willing to take care of her.

If only Santana could stop thinking about the love that both built her up and crushed her in high school.

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><p><em>Santana had only been in Seattle for six months. She was settling into the groove of her new job - making frienemies and kicking whoever's ass it took to climb ranks as quickly and efficiently as she could.<em>

_What she hadn't counted on was her boss being into tae kwon do and inviting Santana along for some...practice. She had gotten a little too aggressive with someone more skilled than her, and now her bleeding head was all she had to show for it._

_Though Thomas had totally given her a highfive on her way out the door._

_The emergency room was mostly empty. It was a quiet night._

_The curtain was pulled back, and a stunningly gorgeous woman walked in. "Hello, Miss Lopez," she said._

_Santana nodded at the woman as she pulled out the things she needed to stitch up Santana's head injury. "This is going to sting, isn't it?" Santana asked, already wincing._

_The doctor looked up at her, smiling softly. "I'll be gentle," she said. And Santana's stomach had fluttered unexpectedly._

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><p>Since then, Gabby had been a constant in her life. She was there with coffee every Sunday morning. They went shopping and clubbing together. A few times a year, Santana found that she had stuffed all of her emotions so deeply down and they were so compact that they exploded. Gabby was always there to make sure that Santana made it home okay.<p>

They'd only slept together once. When Santana woke up that morning, she couldn't stay in her apartment, in her bed where she'd just had sex with another woman. It always felt like cheating even though it never was.

That morning, she had gone to her gym and hopped into the shower just as tears started streaming down her face. She had left Gabby alone in her bed.

Santana had never been great at dealing with her emotions.

As the past faded and the present took its place, Santana managed to stand and make it across the room, throwing herself down onto her bed. As she sunk down into the world of unconsciousness, she was assaulted by flashes of blonde hair and beautiful smiles - blue and green eyes the only distinguishing features in her muddled, drunken thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, she awoke with a slight headache. Her inability to ever truly by hungover was envious. She pulled herself up off of the bed and headed into the shower, glancing at the clock as she passed. The Glee Club Reunion Brunch - as Berry had dubbed it - was scheduled for ten o'clock. She had an hour and a half to get ready and head across town.

The shower was hot and soothing against her muscles - she had fallen asleep with her neck at an odd angle. Her thoughts were blissfully inactive as she washed her hair and her body before stepping out of the shower, getting dressed, going about her usual routine.

Her mind came to an unconscious decision as she was walking down the hallway - she ended up with an answer to a question she hadn't even realized she was contemplating.

Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the shiny number 7 instead of the L.

It didn't take long for Gabby to answer her door, and she was already dressed for the day - her hair done perfectly and her reading glasses perched daintily on her nose. She leaned against the door frame and faced Santana with an understanding smile on her lips.

"Are you hungry?" Santana asked.

Gabby didn't question Santana. She just nodded and asked for five minutes to get ready.

The drive across town to the school seemed longer than it actually was. Santana's hands gripped the steering wheel of the rental car way tighter than necessary.

Gabby didn't say anything. She just silently looked out the window, taking in the town where Santana grew up.

Santana knew that if she didn't get out of the car immediately upon turning it off that she wouldn't, so as soon as she had the keys in her hand, she threw her door open and practically dove out. Gabby took the more elegant route of slowly opening her door and rising out of the car.

There were signs and balloons pointing them down the cold hallways in the direction of the choir room. Only Rachel Berry would want to have brunch in the room where they all spent most of their extracurricular time.

"So this is where you grew up," Gabby said. It was less question and more statement, but Santana answered anyway.

"Yep," she said. "It's not much to look at, really."

Gabby reached out and easily laced the fingers of her left hand with Santana's right. Santana didn't pull away, but she looked over and readily took in the soft lines of Gabby's face - the slight tilt upwards of her lips and the way her hair brushed against her cheeks and the way her eyes seemed to be the warmest facets of light in the entire building. "It was yours," Gabby replied, "And that makes it something special."

The moment was almost more overwhelming than their one-night stand - more overwhelming than the emotional turmoil she went through every time her heart felt like it was cheating.

But if Santana was cheating on anyone, it was Gabby. Not the girl from high school, not Brittany S. Pierce - the girl who finally got Santana to open up to her and to the world, only to crush Santana's spirit in a single blow.

The choir room was approaching more quickly than Santana felt comfortable with. She pulled her right hand up, bringing Gabby's with it, and checked the wristwatch on the blonde's arm. They were early.

"We could do another lap around the school first," Gabby offered, perfectly reading Santana's body language.

Santana shook her head. "No, it's okay. If not now, then when?"

She pushed forward into the room, and her innate stubbornness kept her fingers intertwined with Gabby's as she prepared to face her past.

There was a long table spread around across the middle of the room. The red chairs that were usually up on the risers were placed all around the table. A smaller table in the corner held the food and plates. The first thing that caught Santana's eye was the silver reflective surface of a coffee machine.

Gabby saw what Santana was looking at and dropped her hand, "Go say hi to your friends. I'll get coffee."

Santana gave Gabby a thankful smile and scanned the room. There weren't many people there yet. Puck was standing next to the instruments with Sam. They were talking animatedly about something.

"Santana!"

Santana turned toward the voice and saw Quinn and Rachel sitting on the risers. Quinn waved her over. As Santana made her way to them, they both stood.

"You look fantastic," Quinn smiled and hugged Santana.

"Thanks," Santana replied and mumbled something out about Quinn looking great too.

Rachel was more tentative with her hug, but it still came.

"So," Santana looked around. More glee club members were walking in, but not the one her stomach was tied in knots over. "How's it going?"

"Fantastic," Rachel grinned, "I think this was a great idea to get the glee club together before the entire class's events."

Santana listened to Quinn and Rachel make idle conversation while her eyes kept flickering to the door. She was apprehensive because she couldn't even predict what was going to happen.

When she looked back at Rachel and Quinn, they were both looking at her with questioning eyes. So she did what she usually did and avoided their silent question. She motioned to the men behind them, "What are they looking at?"

Rachel and Quinn turned around to find Kurt, Blaine, and Finn all standing on chairs looking out the window.

"Probably nothing," Quinn said with a chuckle.

"Boys..." Rachel mumbled before walking over to see exactly what it was that they were - or weren't - looking at.

Gabby walked up then, two cups of hot coffee in her hands. She presented one to Santana before extending her hand in greeting to Quinn. "Hi," she said, "I'm Gabby."

"Quinn," Santana's old classmate replied, curious expression on her face. Her eyebrows arched, and she shot Santana a querying glance before turning back to Gabby.

"It's nice to meet you," Gabby said with a smile.

And before further introductions could be made, the boys' were stepping down off of their chairs and whispering loudly enough that Santana's curiosity was peaked more than normal. Rachel even had a worried frown on her face.

Santana didn't know what was going on, but it couldn't be good.

The same surge of electricity from the night before shot across the skin on the back of her neck, and she instinctively reached out for something to hold onto. Her hand grasped onto Quinn's elbow, and her old friend moved closer. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know," Santana murmured under her breath.

And then the choir door was opening. Artie rolled inside, closely followed by Tina.

And Santana's breath completely stalled in her chest as she locked eyes with the one girl she had both dreaded and looked forward to seeing for years.

Brittany was standing there in the doorway, Mike visible over her shoulder with a supporting hand at her back. The vibrancy that Santana knew and loved seemed to have dissipated, and the crutches under her arms made her heart ache for reasons that she didn't want to decipher.

Everyone rushed to Brittany. Asking her what was wrong, asking if they could help in any way. She gave them a half hearted answer. Santana didn't move with the group. She stayed in her place with Gabby on the risers.

However, she could hear Brittany's answers as she sat down at the table. She didn't know what meniscus knee tears were, but she knew that it had to be painful and not at all helpful when someone had a dance career. Santana looked to Gabby and asked her to explain the injury more.

Just as Gabby was about to explain, Rachel stood up on a chair. "Thank you, everyone, for coming!"

"As if you gave any of us a choice," Kurt said from his place on the front row of chairs. Blaine good-naturedly bumped their shoulders together, and Rachel shot him a chastising look.

Rachel gave a speech. Santana was sure it was a wonderful speech, but she couldn't really find it within herself to focus. She would wait impatiently for the "Also, angels." Until then, she found herself glancing as surreptitiously as possible down the row, leaning forward in her seat to get a better view.

Brittany turned her head to the left and caught Santana looking, and Santana immediately - almost guiltily - sunk back in her seat. Gabby turned her head towards Santana, noting the way in which the other girl was rubbing her hands together in her lap. It was a nervous habit, one that she had picked up on long ago. All Gabby wanted to do was take Santana's hands between her own, but she knew there was only so much the other girl could handle - on this day, of all days.

She didn't know much about Santana's past. But what she did know revolved heavily around the girl who had walked in on crutches. And she knew that every bit of that past had been key in shaping who Santana was today - the best, the worst.

Finally Rachel ended her speech with "dig in" and hopped down off of the chair.

Puck caught Santana's eyes and jerked his head towards the far end of the table. Santana nodded, and Gabby followed her. Puck and Lauren were already sitting at the table, and Gabby and Santana sat across from them. Santana was glad that Gabby was between her and the rest of the table.

"Do you want me to go get your food?" Gabby asked.

Santana shook her head and sipped her coffee. She didn't fly all the way across the country to be a coward. She could at least walk past Brittany and say hi without having a panic attack. Or so she hoped.

She slowly rose from the table. Gabby started to rise too, but Puck caught her eyes and conveyed that she could stay. Gabby sat back down and introduced herself to Lauren.

Santana forced her hands to remain still at her sides as she moved towards the table of food. Brittany was there - just, there - and there was no getting out of this situation. Not now that her feet were already moving across the linoleum.

She decided that she would speak first. But she wasn't sure if that would give her or Brittany the power in this situation.

"Hi," she said, stopping in front of her ex-girlfriend and attempting to exude as little awkwardness as possible.

As soon as the word left her lips, she realized that she didn't know who had the power here, but it certainly wasn't her - maybe it had never been her.

"Hey," Brittany replied. Her voice was different from the bubbly eighteen-year old Santana had left behind - not because she had wanted to, but because she had been given no other choice. "How are you?"

"I'm -" Santana began. Then her mind stalled. In the fraction of a second between her first uttered syllable and the next, a thousand and one thoughts raced through her mind. I miss you. I love you. I hate you. Why couldn't we work? Why couldn't we be happy? I'm miserable without you. I don't know how to love anymore. "- fine."

Brittany had always been able to read her. It was comforting at the best of times, disconcerting at the worst. But they were no longer truly friends, and so she had no right to call Santana out on her blatant bullshit. "I'm glad to hear it," she replied simply.

"You?" Santana asked. She was starting to feel Brittany's eyes piercing her body, reading her every emotion and thought.

Brittany's eyes gazed at her wrapped knee. "Not so good."

Santana bit her lip and looked at Brittany's knee. She could tell that Brittany was heartbroken. She could tell that she was in pain, and that kick-started something inside of her. "Do you need anything? I can get you some food or something."

A hint of a smile graced Brittany's face. "I'm okay. Thanks though."

Puck loomed behind Santana, and she could feel him, so she took a deep breath and nodded to Brittany. "Let me know, okay?"

"Thanks, San," Brittany leaned back in her chair.

Santana swore that she saw tears in her eyes, but the blonde was quick to blink them away. She ducked her head as Puck ushered Santana forward. It took a few seconds to finally register that Brittany had called her by the familiar nickname. It came out so naturally that she hadn't noticed immediately.

It felt good in a way that Santana was almost ashamed to admit - and when her eyes took in Gabby's laughing form across the room, it caused a sickening sense of guilt to flood her chest.

Santana turned back to the table full of bagels and random breakfast foods. She was used to the guilt by now.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed in a blur. The turnout from their graduating class was actually quite impressive - and uncomfortable for Santana, since she really couldn't have given two fucks about most of these people anyway.<p>

Things at McKinley were wrapping up for the day, and there was a group of them - mostly from glee club - who were heading out to a bar near Burt's tire shop. On the way out to the parking lot, Mercedes walked passed Santana and Gabby and said, "Girl, she's a good one. Don't let her go!"

Santana just smiled softly in acknowledgment and out of courtesy to Gabby.

She didn't notice Brittany walking out of the doors behind her.

Santana was about to open the door for Gabby when she heard Rachel shriek, "Oh my god, Brittany!" Santana's head snapped back in the direction of the school. The blonde was sitting on the blacktop of the parking lot, clutching her knee in pain.

Santana and Gabby ran back to her. Santana panicked, not knowing what to do. She took Brittany's hand as Gabby positioned Brittany's knee so that she could examine it better.

"Where does it hurt?" Gabby asked, carefully.

Brittany had tears running down her face, and she clutched Santana's shirt, pulling her closer. With her hand that wasn't fisting the front of Santana's shirt, Brittany indicated the front-most portion of her knee.

"You're a dancer, right?" Gabby asked, gently examining Brittany's injury. She looked up into Brittany's moist eyes, and the other woman nodded. "Was it a sudden injury or -"

Brittany shook her head. "No, the doctor said it was degenerative. Decades of dancing and whatnot..."

Santana's eyes immediately shifted to Gabby's face. The woman was a trained physician, she knew better than to show any kind of emotional reaction to Brittany's statement. But Santana noted the slight tension across her shoulders and the way her cheek twitched as she bit at the inside of her mouth. Santana swallowed heavily.

"Well, this flare up of pain isn't unusual. But we should get you to the hospital to have a CT scan anyway."

Santana gestured Mike over and told him to grab Puck so they could get Brittany to her car.

Brittany couldn't seem to let go of Santana's shirt, so Santana climbed into the backseat of the rental car with her. Mike hopped into the driver's seat, and Gabby sat quietly in the passenger's seat

Gabby would occasionally glance behind her under the pretense that she was checking on the injured woman in the backseat. Part of her was actually doing that, but the other part was watching Santana hold Brittany's head against her shoulder, whispering things into her ear in an effort to get her to calm down. Every time she saw them together and saw how natural Santana looked holding her, her heart broke just a little bit more.

Mike pulled into the emergency room bay, and Santana and Gabby helped Brittany out of the car. Inside, Gabby identified herself, then explained what was happening, and Brittany was immediately wheeled off for the scan.

In the waiting room, Santana couldn't sit down. She felt like her emotions were pulling her in all different directions.

As she paced, Gabby walked across the room and sat down in a chair somewhere in the middle of Santana's path. Several long moments passed in silence.

Santana's mind was attempting to wrap around many different things at once - Brittany's reappearance in her life, simply being in Lima again, Gabby's support, Mercedes' unknowingly deep comment, crutches and hospitals and white walls and uncertainties piled on top of fear and some kind of deep self-loathing that she had never really been able to escape.

Gabby's voice drifted across the silence that had settled around them.

"It's okay, you know."

Santana stopped, turning on her heel and facing the poised woman before her. "What?" she questioned, and her voice came across much harsher than she had intended - but Gabby gave no indication that the words had hurt her. Santana closed her eyes, reigned in her emotions. Then she cleared her throat and tried again. "What's okay?"

Gabby stood and walked towards her, grasping Santana's upper arms between her hands. She stared purposefully into Santana's eyes and said, "It's okay for you to care. It's okay for you to be confused. It's okay for you to be hurt."

Santana clenched her fists. She didn't want to cry. Not here. Not in Lima and not in this hospital. So she shook her head and broke away from Gabby, resuming her pacing pattern.

Gabby sighed heavily and sat down in her chair. She crossed one of her legs over the other and just watched Santana. After ten minutes she asked, "Do you need anything?"

Santana automatically shook her head. Gabby wasn't even sure the question registered with Santana. She didn't even look up when Mike walked in. He handed Gabby the car keys because Santana was not responsive. Her eyes were planted on the ground that rushed past her and back again.

"Are you with Brittany Pierce?" a woman asked.

Santana moved to the woman's side. "Yes. Is she okay? What's wrong?"

The woman in the green scrubs smiled kindly. "Santana Lopez is that you?"

Santana's brows furrowed for only a moment before her eyes widened almost comically and she asked, "Sugar Motta?"

"The one and only!" Sugar said, bright smile on her face.

"Did they find a cure for Asperger's?" Santana asked - only somewhat sarcastically.

"Self-medication," Sugar replied simply. "So I'm assuming you're here with Brittany, yes?" Santana nodded in response, her hands already rubbing together in front of her out of habit. "You can come with me then."

"Well," Santana began before shifting around and finally taking in Mike's presence, "Mike should go. You're her dance partner, right? She might feel more comfortable if you go back to see her."

Mike shook his head. "Go ahead, Santana. Once best friends, always best friends. She needs you."

Santana wasn't entirely convinced that Mike's statement was even close to the truth, but she gave one final glance in Gabby's direction - receiving a nod of encouragement - before turning and following Sugar down the hallway.

Her heart started racing the farther she got down the hallway. She knew this hospital like the back of her hand, and she knew where the rooms they'd put Brittany in were.

Santana clenched her fists again, trying to relieve some of the pressure. If Brittany ever needed unconditional support, it was right then.

She was so in her head that she almost didn't notice Sugar stop in front of the room. She opened the door for Santana and smiled again. "The doctor will be with you shortly."

Santana nodded, stepping past her. She took a deep breath as she entered the room. Brittany was lying in the bed, looking at the TV droning on in the corner. When she saw the movement though, her eyes turned to Santana.

"Hey," Santana said quietly. She took a seat in the chair next to the bed. "How do you feel?"

Brittany leaned back into her pillows. "I don't know. I'm on this pain medication stuff. It doesn't hurt as bad, but..."

Santana nodded in understanding. She had so many questions. What happened to her? What was she doing now? So many more ran through her head, and she couldn't decide what she should ask first or even if she was allowed to ask at all.

Santana edged her hands underneath her thighs in an effort to keep them away from Brittany's. When Brittany spoke, she was glad - it gave her something to focus on besides the questions running through her head.

"I already know what the doctor's going to say." Her voice was quiet, weak in a way that had Santana blinking away tears and looking up at the ceiling instead of at the broken girl in front of her.

"Umm..." she cleared her throat. "What have you been told before?"

"I need surgery," Brittany whispered. Santana finally tore her eyes away from the nothingness she had been focused on, looking instead at Brittany's face. Blue eyes were hidden behind her eyelids, and Santana greedily took in every facial feature that she could in those moments of quietness between them - relearning and remembering what that skin had felt like underneath her fingertips years ago, how simultaneously painful and fulfilling it had been to cradle Brittany's head against her chest in the car... "It's pretty bad, San. There would definitely be physical therapy, but it's not even a sure thing that I'll be able to dance again after... Or that I'll be on the same level again."

Santana swallowed. She could hear Brittany's voice shaking as she spoke. That was always Brittany's dream. Her only dream. She wanted to dance. She was great at dancing. People referred to Brittany as a dancer. Santana felt her heart breaking in her chest for the blonde.

Brittany looked back at the TV. "I don't even have a job. They had to replace me after I was out of it for a week. I'm staying with my parents this week." She closed her eyes, and Santana could see the tears seeping out from under her eyelids, "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Santana couldn't resist anymore. She took Brittany's hand. "Hey. It'll be okay." When Brittany's eyes fluttered open, the tears escaped, spilling down her cheeks.

She was out of her seat before she even realized it, pressing her forehead against Brittany's temple and grasping the other woman's cheek underneath her warm palm. "Brit," she said, voice unexpectedly hoarse, "It's gonna be okay."

It was something she had said to Brittany before. And she realized with stunning clarity that she would say it as often as she needed to say it - as long as it took for Brittany to believe her like she used to. -

_The sun was high in the sky. It was a 'real scorcher' - at least, that's what the local weatherman had been saying lately. Santana didn't particularly care. Her Hispanic heritage kept her from ever burning, so she would just lay out in the sun with as little clothing as she could feasibly get away with and get deliciously brown during the summers. This particular summer was their last free one before high school - and Cheerios tryouts._

_That afternoon resembled most of the other summer afternoons thus far. Santana was sitting out on the grass, short shorts hiding very little of her thighs, a bikini top covering her chest. Her hair was pulled back off of her neck, and she had a pair of sunglasses resting on her nose._

_She was propped up on her elbows, watching Brittany practice motocross._

_One curve had been proving particularly difficult for Brittany all day long, and Santana's heart sunk in her chest when she saw her best friend wipe out completely._

_She was on her feet, running towards Brittany's figure instantly - where she was clutching at her ankle in the dirt._

_Santana slid to a stop next to Brittany, dirt kicking up all around them. "Oh my god, Brit, are you okay?"_

_The blonde pulled off her helmet and let it fall to the ground. She took a breath in through her teeth and said, "I don't know."_

_Santana helped Brittany to her dad's car, and he drove them to the hospital where Santana had called ahead, having her dad send someone out with a wheelchair._

_She saw the look of extreme apprehension on Brittany's face as the nurse walked out to retrieve the x-rays. Brittany's face was buried in Santana's neck. There were tears in her eyes, but it wasn't from pain. "What if I can't dance anymore?"_

_Santana stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, "I'm sure you'll be fine." The thought that Brittany would never dance again broke her heart. That was when Brittany was free. She wasn't a dumb blonde. She wasn't anyone's daughter or sister or girlfriend. She was Brittany - and when she danced, she was free._

_Luckily, it turned out just to be a really bad sprain. She kept it in a brace for a week while Santana catered to her the entire time._

_And every day during that week of recovery, Santana was there - with words of encouragement and an unfaltering presence of support._

_'It'll be ok' became her mantra. And every time, Brittany believed her._

_Brittany danced again. She danced beautifully - just like she always had, maybe even more so. She was an unstoppable force._

_Not that Santana wasn't always there to clear the way for her if necessary._

* * *

><p>The doctor came and went. He said nothing that Brittany hadn't already heard. And Santana was there to hold her hand, there to brush her hair back behind her ears and comfort her with the few words she had always attempted to use to better Brittany's existence.<p>

Santana wheeled Brittany back out to the waiting room. As she and Brittany approached the front of the hospital, the sounds of Sugar's eager voice filled their ears. Curious now, Santana picked up her pace. And when they rounded the corner into the waiting room, there Sugar was - sitting in the chair directly beside Gabby, chatting animatedly.

"She seems really nice," Brittany said quietly as they neared the two medical professionals and Mike.

Santana didn't know what to say. Her chest felt painfully tight. She leaned heavily on the wheel chair as she pushed Brittany forward. Finally, she breathed out a "Yeah..."

"Hey!" Sugar said when they arrived at the group. "Done already?"

"What'd they say?" Mike asked, his eyes connecting with Brittany's.

Brittany shrugged. "Same thing."

"Did you schedule the surgery?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I can't. Not right now."

"Why not?" Gabby asked. "You need it, and it'll make you feel better."

"It might make me feel better," Brittany replied, "but will that be worth it if I can't ever dance again?"

No one answered. Not even the medically-minded Gabby. Because who could really answer that?

"Are you staying with your parents?" Santana asked, cutting deftly through the heavy silence that had descended upon those gathered. At Brittany's nod, Santana leaned forward, pushing her towards the sliding double doors of the hospital's entrance. "Then let's get you home."


	3. Chapter 3

The car's engine purred as Santana pulled into the hotel. Her neck was still sore from that morning, she rolled it tightly on her shoulders as she pulled the car into a spot and put it in park. Gabby - who had been watching Santana in her peripherals the entire drive back to the hotel - fully turned her head towards Santana.

"Crick in your neck?" she asked.

"Yeah," Santana replied. "I guess that happens when you pass out on an unfamiliar bed with more alcohol in your system than you've imbibed since college."

Gabby made a humming noise in the back of her throat before reaching over with her left hand and massaging the easily discernible knot between Santana's shoulder blades. When Santana moaned lowly in relief, it was completely involuntary. But it felt so good, she wouldn't have stopped it if she could. Her chin dropped to her chest, and her eyes fluttered closed.

"Let's get you to bed," Gabby teased the hairs on the back of Santana's head, "It's been a long couple of hours."

"It's only one o'clock," Santana sighed, leaning her head on the steering wheel.

Gabby smirked. "Somewhere else you need to be?"

With a sigh, Santana pushed open the door of the car and heaved herself out. Inside, the lobby was quiet. It was past midnight, and the returning reunion rush was already over. Gabby pressed the button for the elevator and put her hands in her pockets.

"Brittany was lying, you know," Gabby stated, watching the numbers of the elevator descend.

Santana was enraged, if only for a brief second. She wasn't supposed to defend Brittany anymore. She wasn't supposed to care enough to become angry when someone told her Brittany was a liar. "Why do you say that?"

"That injury can be career ending either way," Gabby stated when the doors opened, "This way, she's in enormous pain. Surgery would only help at this point."

Eyebrows furrowed, Santana contemplated Gabby's words. Brittany had never been the one to run from things because of fear - not when her ankle was healing, not when she would fall and scrape the palms of her hands, not when Cheerios practice was too hard or too long, and not when it came to the important things either... Glee club, being in an official relationship, coming out to their parents...

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open. They walked inside, and Santana hit the 6 for her room. Gabby leaned forward over her shoulder to hit the 7, but Santana's fingertips closed around her wrist.

"Don't," she whispered.

An exhalation of air against the shell of her ear. "Why not?" Gabby asked. But Santana hoped she already knew the answer.

She hoped - because she really didn't want to have to say it out loud.

"Come to my room," Santana said. Again, her voice was little more than a whisper, her eyes downcast to the floor of the elevator underneath her shoes.

"Of course," Gabby nodded. When Santana released her wrist, she dropped her hand to her side and listened to the quiet hum of the elevator.

Once in Santana's room, the brunette fell onto the bed and curled up against a pillow. Gabby dropped her coat on the chair by the door, then softly locking the door behind her.

When she got to the bed, Santana gravitated towards her. She held the other woman against her body. "It'll be okay."

Santana let out a humorless laugh. She had told Brittany that mere hours ago. She had held Brittany and whispered it to her over and over again.

Gabby stroked Santana's hair and rubbed her back supportively. She didn't have to ask Santana what she was thinking about. She knew that her mind was on her ex-girlfriend. She always figured that part of Santana was always thinking about Brittany. Santana was never completely focused on her when they went out for coffee or dinner. Gabby knew this.

And part of Gabby accepted this.

But part of Gabby wanted to dig deeper - to find a part of Santana that wasn't completely, hopelessly attached to everything that Brittany was, everything Brittany had represented of Santana's past and her childhood and what it meant to really grow up. Digging that deep though... Maybe it was impossible. What if Gabby searched for that part of Santana - what if she really pushed her - and then all she found was that there was no part of Santana that hadn't been touched by the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty?

"Fine," Gabby conceded as Santana's almost-harsh laugh rang out in the quiet of the hotel room, "maybe it won't be okay. But we can get by for now. Will you let me help you do that?"

Santana looked up from her spot on the bed, straight into Gabby's eyes. And she wondered - not for the first time and probably not for the last - why she couldn't just let this woman in.

"Fall asleep with me?" Santana asked. She knew it wasn't an entirely fair thing to ask of Gabby. Sometimes, she felt like she was taking advantage of Gabby. She knew the woman wanted to be more than friends, but Santana just couldn't...she didn't know why.

She just couldn't.

Gabby nodded, "Of course."

Santana closed her eyes and buried her face in Gabby's collar. For a little while, she would pretend like they were in Seattle. That she had just had a hard day at work and didn't just spend a few hours with Brittany in the hospital consoling the dancer and feeling the heavy tears fall across her neck, tangible evidence that Brittany's world was falling apart.

A long time ago, Santana had mastered the art of pretending that everything was okay. -

When Santana woke up, it was to the smell of fresh hotel-quality coffee. Not ideal, but it would do to start the day.

"Good morning," Gabby said as she crossed from the bathroom to the table near the television where the coffee maker was valiantly working. It had seen better days.

Santana made a noise of acknowledgment, rolling over and pressing her face against a pillow. She heard a soft chuckle from across the room and peeked out from the safe confinement of her pillow. Gabby was pouring the first cup of coffee into one of the provided mugs, blowing on it softly, and moving towards the bed. She sat on the edge and gestured that it was for Santana.

Still somewhat hazy from sleep, Santana sat up and graciously accepted the liquid caffeine. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was sincere - an easy tone to take with Gabby.

The other woman merely smiled sweetly in response. "I'm going to go up to my room. Shower, get ready for the day. Give me a call, alright?"

"Yeah," Santana acquiesced, "I'll do that."

The door closed behind Gabby, and Santana reached for her phone, sipping on her coffee all the while.

There was a missed call and a text message - from one of her favorite blondes in the entire world.

Santana nearly dropped her phone. Then she panicked. A million horrible scenarios running through her head. She didn't even stop to wonder where Brittany had gotten her phone number.

"Hello?" Brittany answered when Santana had thought of over fifteen terrible accidents that could have happened to Brittany inside of her parents' house while she listened to the two buzzes of the dial tone.

"Hey," Santana said awkwardly. Brittany didn't sound like she was in any kind of trouble or pain.

"Oh hey, Santana," Brittany's voice perked up, "Did you make it to your hotel okay last night?"

Santana nodded even though it was futile in her empty hotel room, "Yeah. Did you get to your room okay?" That was one of the horrible scenarios - that Brittany fell down the stairs while trying to hobble up to her room.

"I slept on the couch," Brittany answered, "Did you get my text?"

Santana thought back. "Oh no. I just called back. Sorry, I'll check right now."

"No," Brittany quickly replied, "I have to go anyway. Breakfast with my parents and stuff. Just, let me know, ok?"

Intrigued now, Santana answered, "Sure, have a good time with your parents."

"Bye, Santana. And...thanks again for last night and...just, everything."

Santana swallowed hard around the lump in her throat that Brittany's voice seemed to spontaneously induce. "Anytime," she said - and she meant it, which was the most disconcerting thing of all. "Bye."

As they hung up, Santana gave her head a moment to settle after the reeling intoxication that Brittany always seemed to cause. "Damn," she muttered to herself under her breath, taking a longer sip of her coffee now that it had cooled.

She crossed her legs underneath her and opened up her text messages. And just before she was about to click on the unopened message that Brittany had sent her - at 3:12AM at that - another text showed up in her inbox.

Anything to prolong reading whatever it was Brittany had asked.

After all, Santana had mastered the art of pretending - but she had also mastered the art of avoidance.

Quinn had texted her, and Santana quickly read the single word with a smile.

_Breakfast?_

She immediately replied with _Of course. Where?_

Santana should have known where they were going to meet. Like there was any other place worth going in the entire town. She set her phone on the bed and started to get ready, picking out some jeans that would compliment her favorite brown Italian leather boots.

She knew that she was avoiding the text message. She went back and forth about reading it. She wanted to, so badly, but she wanted to resist. Of course, could she ever completely resist Brittany?

Once she was dressed, she fell back onto the bed and picked up her phone. She opened the text before she could stop herself. It was simple. Two sentences. Thank you so much for earlier. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?

Santana's mouth went dry. Before she could stop herself, she texted back. What time?

She rolled her eyes at herself and wanted to throw her phone against the wall. She also wanted to jump up and down. She felt so damn conflicted all the fucking time around Brittany.

Finally, after lying there for ten minutes, she pushed herself off of the bed and threw her purse over her shoulder. She needed to get to the Lima Bean before Quinn got pissed.

On her way to the elevator, Santana bit her lip in contemplation. By the time the elevator doors had closed, she had made up her mind. As the elevator descended to the lobby, she typed out a message to Gabby.

Going to breakfast with Quinn. Berry has an insane afternoon scheduled for the reunion. Do you want to meet me at the school later?

The response came before Santana had even started the engine of her rental.

I wouldn't miss it. I'll be there. Have fun.

Santana shook her head as she wondered why the hell Gabby couldn't just be a complete and utter bitch.

That really would make this scenario so much simpler. -

The Lima Bean was as busy as it had ever been - which was not very. Quinn was easy to spot. She had always been the kind of person who just didn't quite belong in Lima. Her perfections were both envious and tiresome.

"Hey," she said, approaching Quinn's table.

Her longtime friend smiled up at her before quickly standing and embracing her. "Morning," Quinn said. They sat next to each other at the small table. "Your coffee order is still the same as it's always been, right?"

"Have I ever changed anything?" Santana said. It was more of a barb at herself than an answer to Quinn's question.

The blonde smirked knowingly and brought her coffee cup up to her lips, "We didn't get much of a chance to talk yesterday."

"There wasn't much time between the PowerPoint presentations about our class 'Where Are They Now's and the activities," Santana smiled and sipped her second - and no where near last - cup of coffee.

Quinn sat up straight in her chair like she was Emily Post's daughter and rested her hands on the scuffed wood of the small table, "Especially if you top it all off with a night in the hospital."

Santana knew she had been caught. Quinn had always been good - almost too good - at finding out all the little things about people that they didn't want anyone else to know. But she had also been great about holding her cards close to her chest, playing them only when she knew she would get the most benefit out of doing so.

Which made Santana wonder... Why was Quinn bringing this up at all?

"Yeah," Santana confirmed. No use denying it now. "Brittany needed people with her, and then we all helped her get home. It's not like I did it all on my own -"

"And it's probably not like you were holding her hand the whole time either, right?" Quinn interjected. Santana snapped her jaw shut, and that was all the confirmation Quinn needed. "Gabby seems like an incredible woman, Santana. Are you sure you should be treating her like -"

"Like what?" It was Santana's turn to interrupt Quinn now. "Is Quinn Fabray really about to give me a life lesson on how to treat the people I'm closest to in my life? You don't know anything about my relationship with Gabby."

Quinn's face was stoic, her expression as guarded as it had been since she came back from summer break before junior year. "You're right," she replied. "So tell me."

Santana didn't want to be having this conversation right now. She wanted to have a hassle-free breakfast with Quinn. She wanted to relax before her hectic and probably complicated day. She didn't want to have a deep, thoughtful talk. She wanted to gossip about how people still looked exactly the same and how some of them never made it out of Lima like they had.

Because at the end of it all, she was going back to Seattle and Quinn was going back to New York and everyone would resume their normal lives.

Quinn spoke before Santana could or would, "I know that there are some...residual feelings-"

"You don't know shit," Santana stood up, her coffee lapping over the side of her cup when she bumped the table. "I shouldn't have thought that I could have a normal conversation with you, should I have?"

As Santana moved to turn around, she saw Quinn roll her eyes at her. That was the last straw, really. She didn't have to put up with Quinn's shit - she was a fucking adult, for goodness' sake.

Spinning on her heel, Santana almost crashed into the body behind her. "Whoa!" she exclaimed as two hands reached out and grasped onto her arms to steady both her body and theirs.

"Santana," Rachel said, completely oblivious smile painted happily across her face. "I'm so glad to see you here!" Santana's jaw was dropped - because, really, she just didn't have anything fitting to say in this situation. Rachel ignored Santana's flabbergasted expression and peered around her chest in Quinn's direction. "Honey," she said, "I'm going to get a latte. Do you want anything?"

Santana turned her head sharply - aggravating the crick in her neck from yesterday - in Quinn's direction as Berry trotted off towards the counter. "Honey?" she repeated the term of endearment.

"Well," Quinn said, calmly taking another drink of her Americano, "I asked you to come have breakfast with me for a reason."

Santana was stunned. She didn't quite know what was going on, and she couldn't let herself piece everything together immediately.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Rachel said, pulling up a chair to the tiny table and draping her coat over the back of it.

"Just Santana's diva storm-out," Quinn smirked up at Santana. It was a challenge. She knew Santana needed to know what was going on. "It wasn't much to look at though."

Santana rolled her eyes, but hung her purse back down on the back of her chair, "Alright." She gestured between them, "What's going on?"

Rachel scooted her chair up under the table, and Santana had to suppress a visible shudder and attempt not to make gagging motions when Quinn obviously placed her hand high on Rachel's thigh. "You'd have an inkling of what was going on if you had bothered to keep in touch with me after college," Quinn said. But something in her tone had shifted - it was kinder, more understanding than Santana was used to. And it was like a lightbulb went off over her head as Santana realized that it was Berry's doing.

They had all gone to college in New York. The city had been bright and promising - even when lots of shit had recently gone to hell in Santana's life before leaving Lima. She and Quinn roomed together for their four years at NYU, and it had been great - lots of petty arguments, but great nonetheless. Familiar faces were comforting life fixtures, after all.

Their last semester before graduation, Santana had run into Rachel at a party that some mutual friends were apparently throwing, and they had hooked up - a fact that Puck was always quick to rub in her face.

She knew that Quinn and Rachel had met up for dinner sometime after that, Santana having slipped up and indicated to Rachel that she and Quinn were roommates.

But she had never known what had come of it all.

"I've been...busy," Santana replied - and she knew exactly how lame the words were as they left her lips. She lowered herself back down into the chair.

Rachel smiled and looked at Quinn. Her adoring eyes were a dead giveaway - confirming the conclusion Santana came to on her own. "Shall you or shall I?"

"I think she already knows," Quinn dipped her head down, placing a swift peck on Rachel's lips.

Santana nearly fell out of her chair. She smoothed out her hair and took a few shallow breaths. "I...wha-..." She gave up on words and leaned back in her chair.

"You know how I said there could still be residual feelings?" Quinn asked.

"Residual feelings?" Santana asked. "Residual feelings? Residual feelings happen when you go to the pet store as a kid and you don't get to take a puppy home. Or when you eat too much at lunch. Maybe even when you actually physically touch someone and you never quite get enough of them. You two? You were the most absurd case of awkward moments and absurd unresolved sexual tension that I have ever seen in my life. That's not... That's not residual, nor is it the kind of situation that I ever thought would manifest in front of my face as you two kissing and just... Ugh."

Rachel giggled. "She's taking this well, isn't she?" she asked, turning to Quinn.

"Certainly better than expected," Quinn responded.

And there it was again - that grossly adoring look of reverence that Santana had only seen on Quinn's face when pictures of her spawn had surfaced senior year of high school. That had been strange - this was pure torture.

"Don't you have anywhere to be?" Santana finally managed to wrestle out of her throat.

Rachel checked her watch, "Oh shoot, she's right." Rachel stood up. "If you two would like to come help, I would appreciate it. As much as I'd like them to be, the committee isn't really a committee so much a gossip circle."

"I'll be right behind you," Quinn answered, "Santana and I have some unfinished business."

"Of course," Rachel bent over and kissed Quinn's forehead, "See you later."

"Goodbye," Quinn smiled after the tiny firecracker.

Santana couldn't even form words. She just opened her mouth and closed it a few times, looking like a stunned fish gasping for some sense of normalcy.

"How's Brittany?" Quinn asked, enticing Santana out of her living coma.

It was somewhat of a low blow, really, using the conversation topic of 'Brittany' to distract Santana from the freakshow she had just been witness to. But it served its purpose like a swift slap to the face - because now, Brittany was all Santana could think about.

Regardless, she was hesitant to give Quinn something to work with - she didn't appreciate feeling ambushed.

"Maybe you should ask Mike," Santana scoffed, downing the last of her now lukewarm coffee. "He'd know better than me at any rate."

"You were with her last night," Quinn pointedly replied.

"Let's define 'with her'," Santana rebuked. "We were in the hospital, and I was just trying to make sure she was taken care of. That's it. There's nothing to be said beyond that." Quinn made a noise of skepticism, and Santana rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed dramatically. "Physically? Her knee is not good. She needs surgery, but she's scared." Quinn's expression softened, and Santana's shoulders slumped in response. "We're having dinner later..."

Quinn ran her finger over the grain of the table. "Sounds nice." She didn't want to say anything more. Anything to make Santana mad at her again because, truth be told, she didn't want Santana to attempt another storm out.

She missed her friend.

A tense silences washed over them. Santana's thoughts shooting through her mind at a mile a minute. Finally, she looked up from her empty coffee cup. "Don't you need to get to the school?"

"Oh yeah," Quinn shook her head, like she was trying to shake the cobwebs from being stationary for so long, "I'll see you there?"

Santana nodded, "I'll just follow you there and help out."

She came to regret offering to help. Rachel handed her a list as long as her arm the second she walked in. The menial things were fine with Santana though. The more redundant and simple, the better. She needed time to think - or to not think. She needed to sort everything out and clear her head.

The actual sorting out of her thoughts ended up being a lot more difficult than Santana had expected. Especially since her cellphone was pressing through the material of her jeans into her thigh, a constant reminder of the text she had received from Brittany sometime during breakfast.

_Reunion stuff is over at 7 according to Rachel's schedule. How about 7:30? My place?_

Sometime between the third and fourth balloon that Finn popped with his oafishly large feet, Santana whipped the cell phone out and finally responded.

_Sounds good._

"Keep it simple, Santana," she muttered to herself under her breath.

"They say talking to yourself is an early sign of schizophrenia," Puck said, coming to stand at the foot of the ladder Santana was currently at the top of, sitting down with her legs on one of the top rungs.

"Oh, fuck off," she replied.

One of the large entryway doors to the gym opened, and Gabby walked inside.

Every time the door had opened before, a part of Santana had hoped to see Brittany walking through - crutches firmly under her arms and a smile painted across her face.

And while her heart didn't beat faster at the sight of Gabby walking inside instead of her ex, Santana was notably calmer.

Gabby caught sight of Santana and waved. Santana reciprocated, but the other woman had already been swarmed by the craziness that was Rachel Berry.

Santana sighed deeply, turning back to crepe paper duty. She didn't even know what she was feeling anymore. She didn't know how she was going to explain to Gabby about dinner tonight with Brittany. Even though the doctor never said it out loud, Santana knew that Gabby had wanted to get to know this Brittany woman - this imaginary bar that she'd never managed to reach.

Santana shook her head and stepped down when her job was done. She took a step back to admire her handywork. It wasn't really that impressive. Not much can be done with crepe paper and clear tape, but she had done her best.

The door swung open again and again, and Brittany had yet to walk in with five minutes to go before the official festivities started. Santana was drinking yet another cup of coffee and sitting at one of the fold out tables, checking her email from her phone when she felt someone sit down next to her.

"It hasn't been easy on her, you know." Santana's head swiveled around on her shoulders to stare at Mike who had sneakily taken the seat next to her at some point, straddling the bench between his legs.

That ninja.

"What do you even -"

"I've been her dance partner for years," he continued, "and there's not a day that goes by when I don't see some part of you reflected in her eyes."

"You've got to be kidding me," Santana said, literally throwing her hands up in the air and preparing to refute his absurd claims.

"No, Santana, listen to me." And there was something about Mike's calm demeanor - the poise he had always seemingly possessed - that caused Santana to settle back down in her seat, to lower her defenses if for only a few moments. "She's missed you every single day. She hasn't had any serious relationships, because it takes people exactly five minutes alone with her to realize that her heart is somewhere else. I don't know what's going on with you and Gabby -" Santana sighed "- but it'd be really nice if you could maybe take a step back and try and see things from Brittany's point of view on this. She needs you, and I know that you need her."

Santana sat quietly for a few moments, attempting not to cry - or scream her frustration. Then she turned calm, cold eyes on Mike and said, "She was the one who broke my heart in the end. Or do you choose to forget that, since you two are apparently best friends now? She broke my heart, Mike."

Crumpling the empty styrofoam cup in her hand, Santana stood from the table.

He didn't make a move to stop her or follow her. She sort of knew that he wouldn't. He'd said what he needed to say.

She slowly walked to the trashcan, taking her time to over-think or to clear her mind - she was never particularly sure about what was going on in her head anymore.

The one thing she did know was that if Mike was there, Brittany was too. So she kept her head down until she found a shadowy corner where she was sure no one would look twice at her. That was when she chanced a look.

There were people in various stages of decorating. There were people catching up with their classmates. There were still some of the odd wallflowers who arrived early. Then there were a pair of blue eyes staring directly at her.

Santana took in the knit hat resting around the crown of the long blonde hair and the tan jacket, draped over the crutches leaning against the table. As Santana watched, Gabby approached the other woman, a cup of something or other in her hand - Santana assumed it was coffee. And then she was placing a soft hand on Brittany's shoulder, squeezing lightly, before walking away. Continuing to watch the interaction, Santana was surprised when Brittany called out to the other woman - Gabby stopped and turned back, and they exchanged a few quiet words.

It was surreal, really. Quite possibly the strangest experience Santana had been through in a long time - to see her past and present melded together so effortlessly.

"It's pretty fucking awful to have two hot blondes fighting over you." Santana rolled her eyes as she felt Puck plop down in the chair next to her. His feet appeared on the table next to where her hands were nervously fiddling with her phone. "I mean, I would know."

"Of course you would, Puck." She sighed. "And, what? They're not fighting over me, you idiot."

"They might as well be!" he proclaimed, gesturing none-too-subtly across the room.

Santana scoffed. Her eyes followed his hand across the room. Brittany was the only one facing their direction, so she was the only one whose reactions Santana could read.

Her head was bowed and she was tracing the wood of the bench they were sitting on. She wasn't speaking and, after a few seconds, her eyes snapped up to Gabby's face. Her head slowly leveled as she continued to listen. Santana felt an anxiety like she'd never known in her life.

Puck looked over at her and leaned forward. "I bet it'll be like...okay and shit."

Okay and shit was not what Santana needed. She needed answers. She needed some semblance of clarity.

"You know, you two are the worst spies ever." Quinn glided over and sat down next to Santana.

Santana rolled her eyes. Just what she needed. The former queen of repression and current mayor of Berrytown. Santana still wasn't sure she knew how to act around Quinn anymore.

"We're not spying," Santana huffed.

"We're totally spying," Puck confirmed.

Rachel chose that moment to skip across the gym towards them. Santana didn't even have the energy to roll her eyes anymore.

"What's going on over here?" she asked gleefully, crossing her left leg over her right knee as she perched herself daintily in Quinn's lap.

"Puck and Santana are spying," Quinn answered.

"We're not spying!" Santana hissed out between clenched teeth.

"Oh," Rachel said, "Who are you not spying on?"

"Gabby and Brittany," Puck answered.

"That makes sense," Rachel nodded, "They do look to be in an intense discussion. One about Santana, no doubt."

"What else do they have in common?" Quinn asked, agreeing with Rachel.

Santana stood from her chair and shook her head, "You people! I swear, I don't know how I survived high school with all of you in my business. Would you like to give Finn a microphone so he can announce to everyone the details of my personal life?"

"Shhhh," Puck told her, "They're looking. Act normal."

Puck started looking around, which was more suspicious than anything. Quinn and Rachel were giggling together, occasionally stealing kisses. Santana did the opposite of Puck and looked right at them. When she saw the two blondes looking and they saw her, they both started laughing.

Santana blushed deeply and averted her eyes, looking for an escape. It took everything Santana had not to break out in a run as she approached the nearest double door exit from what had become her own personal hell.

And just as she was mere feet from escaping into the freedom of the school hallway beyond -

"Hey Santana!" Finn was stepping in front of her, perfectly blocking her path as if he had actually learned something from WMHS basketball.

"What do you want?" Santana asked, looking up into the freakishly tall guy's face.

Finn hadn't changed much since high school - maybe not at all. His features were still boyish, his smile was still dopey. But there he was with a cup of punch extended to her like he hadn't once almost ruined her life.

"Just thought you might like some punch," he said. His smile faltered momentarily in the face of Santana's glare. "Listen..." he trailed off, shoulders sagging and eyes darting to the floor between them, "Why don't we go for a walk? You look like you could use some fresh air."

Santana thought it over. Finally, she just shrugged with no other answer and took off walking. He followed her, his large steps easily catching up with her.

The wind whipped around them the second the door to the outside opened. Neither one spoke as they made their way to the football stadium. Santana hesitated at the gate, but Finn fished around in his pocket, extracting a set of keys. He used one of them to open the gate to the field while he held his own cup of punch between his teeth.

Santana quirked an eyebrow in an answer. He waited for her to walk past before answering, "I'm the assistant coach for the two time district champion Titans."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Santana. Some people weren't made for life in Lima, Ohio, and some were. Finn seemed happy, and maybe Santana envied that just a little bit.

When they started conversing, Santana was surprised to not hear either one of the blondes' names from inside mentioned. Either Finn was completely oblivious, or he possessed more tact than the rest of her old classmates combined. Whatever it was, Santana found herself enjoying the conversation - more than she had drunken reminiscences with Puck or mindfuck relationship revelations from the Fabray-Berry - or was it Berry-Fabray? - breakfast sneak attack from earlier in the morning.

It wasn't until a couple of hours later that Santana's thoughts were interrupted by the tap tap of shoes against the far end of the bleachers as someone approached her and Finn.

She should have known by the short, hurried steps who it was. Rachel Berry was standing at the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips, her foot tapping away. "Where have you two been?"

"Right here," Finn smiled his lopsided smile at her.

Rachel huffed. "Get your butts back inside. We're about to watch the junior prom slide show."

"You really want to relive that?" Santana asked, "Because I'm pretty sure that me and Karofsky and his husband don't really care to."

"You can't avoid Brittany and Gabby all day," Rachel stated, her eyes softening a bit.

Santana licked her lips and looked at her hands in her lap. Finn sat up from his sprawled out position on the bleachers. "That wasn't cool, Rachel."

Rachel set her jaw. "It wasn't cool, but it's true. I know it's hard, Santana, but the present waits for no man - or woman. And anyway, we're here this week to celebrate the things from our past. Good and bad. Maybe you'll be reminded of something that will help you deal with your issues here in the present."

Santana's natural instinct when it came to Berry was to react viciously - harsh words and haughty gestures - but they were adults now. Santana's coping mechanisms included - but were not limited to - shutting down, shutting up, running away, and hiding.

And she was fully prepared to exercise all of the above in objection to watching a recap of junior fucking prom.

Though Dancing Queen had been pretty legit. Maybe she and Mercedes could do a reprise...

Halfway down the stadium steps, she turned back up to look in Rachel and Finn's direction. "Fine," she said, attempting to keep the bitterness at an all-time low. "I'll come back in and watch your dumb slide show. But I fully expect microphones to be available for Mercedes and myself at its conclusion."

c

Rachel beamed. "I already informed the band!" she called after Santana's retreating figure. Where?


	4. Chapter 4

The slide show garnered a fair amount of jeers and laughs. Everyone managed to make fun of themselves and everyone else. Rachel stood in front of the group and smiled. "Now, we have a special treat. Reprising their junior prom hit, Dancing Queen, Mercedes Jones and Santana Lopez."

Santana and Mercedes were already set up just to the side of the slide show. The band started up, and Mercedes shot Santana a smile before stepping into the spotlight.

Santana, however, hesitated. It had been so long since she sang. There was always the occasional hum or singing along with songs in her car, but she didn't sing anymore. Not like this. She didn't have long to think about it though, because Mercedes grabbed her arm and pulled her into the spotlight as well.

It was there in the spotlight that Santana finally felt like she was home. Sure, she had been in Lima for a few days now. But she had been in a hotel - avoiding that awkward reunion with her family for as long as humanly possible - and she had been running around with old friends, new friends... Even walking down the hallways of their old high school, she hadn't felt, not like this.

The song came to her easily, and she could feel the same enthusiasm from her gathered classmates as she had felt that night junior year.

Halfway through the song, after trading lines with Mercedes, Santana turned to face the crowd. And she locked eyes with Gabby. And the smile on the blonde's face was so full of emotions that Santana didn't know where to start. She looked happy and shocked, she looked captivated.

And that was scary enough in its own right.

Santana broke the connection between their eyes, turning to be spun around by her singing partner.

This time when she looked out over the crowd, she saw Brittany sitting a few chairs away from Gabby. The smile on her face wasn't as bright as Gabby's. In fact, it was a soft, easy smile - one Santana knew intimately. It was a smile of seeing something that was sorely missed.

Santana looked back at Mercedes and watched as the other woman brought the house down. Santana dramatically fanned herself and added some background vocals.

Applause erupted throughout the room. Santana and Mercedes held hands as they bowed and then hugged each other. Rachel stepped up to them and announced that it was time for their lunch break. She firmly reminded everyone to be back at two for the next event.

Kurt approached them as they were stepping off of the small stage that had been erected for the event.

"That was fabulous, ladies," he said. "Can we expect anymore duets from you two before the week is over?"

"I don't know," Mercedes replied. "Maybe a little booty shakin' in River Deep, Mountain High?"

Santana's laugh was genuine as she replied, "That sounds like it could be fun. Count me in."

"By the way, have you two seen Blaine's new boyfriend?" Kurt asked conspiratorially, leaning in closer to the two women in front of him. "He's absolutely delicious."

"Oh, Kurt!" Mercedes chastised playfully, "You've got Karofsky. Keep it PG."

"PG?" Santana asked. "That's boring. Point him out to me later, ok Kurt?"

And then she was off, looking for one blonde explicitly: Gabby. She wanted to find the other woman and talk to her during lunch. There was a lot that Santana hadn't figured out yet, but she knew she at least owed it to Gabby to mention her dinner that night at Brittany's house.

It didn't take much looking. Gabby seemed to be waiting on her near the exit. Santana fell into a familiar speech pattern with the blonde. "Lunch?

Gabby nodded and replied, "Sure."

"Where do you want to go?" Santana asked, pulling her keys out of her jacket pocket.

"Well, you have raved about Breadstix for years," Gabby smiled, "I think I'd like to see what the fuss is all about."

As they approached the car, Santana subconsciously opened the door for Gabby, closing it after she had stepped inside.

It was her own fucking fault that the mixed signals were running rampant.

Shaking her head - but simultaneously reminding herself that chivalry didn't have to be dead - Santana walked around the car and got inside, starting the engine.

At every red light or stop sign between the school and Breadstix, Santana couldn't help but glance over at Gabby. Her passenger was staring out of the window at the passing sights, but Santana's eyes would drift down to her lap - where her hands were resting against her thighs. A part of her wanted to reach out and grab Gabby's hand - for reassurance's sake, if nothing else - but then another part of her remembered the purpose of this lunch.

To inform Gabby that she would be going to the love of her past life's house that night for dinner.

Santana's eyes would instantly snap back to the road in front of her, her hands would grip tighter to the steering wheel, and her head would reel.

Avoiding thoughts of Brittany had been easy when she lived half a country away from their past. But this wasn't Seattle.

They were immediately seated at Breadstix and Santana reached for the bucket of breadsticks as she was sitting down. Gabby giggled, "They're really that good?"

Santana nodded, absently snapping the breadstick in half. "You know that place we went where we paid three hundred and fifty dollars for the four of us to eat?" She waited for Gabby to nod before adding, "These are way better."

They both shared a laugh before Santana fell back into her over-thinking silence. Gabby sat patiently, waiting for Santana to return to the conscious world.

She was used to it by now.

"Well," Gabby finally spoke up after figuring Santana needed just a little prodding. Her eyes gazed over the menu as she casually mentioned, "Your friend Noah invited me to a barbecue tonight."

Santana quirked an eyebrow, "A barbecue?"

Gabby grinned and set her menu down to look at Santana. "It'll be my first one. I grew up in Seattle. If you want to eat outside, you need a really big umbrella." She picked up the menu again. "I figured it would be okay with you since you're having dinner with Brittany."

For a moment, Santana wasn't entirely sure how to respond. The simplicity with which Gabby had uttered the words was disarming. It simply had to be impossible for someone to be so incredibly understanding.

It was a theory Santana had considered extensively before - that Gabby simply wasn't human.

"So you know about that?" she asked in response. "I was going to bring it up. Like, now, actually. I didn't want you to think that -"

"Santana," Gabby interrupted, reaching across the table between them and placing her hand lightly over Santana's. Her thumb had been nervously rubbing against her forefinger, but Gabby's soft touch immediately caused her movements to cease. "Yes, she mentioned it when I saw her earlier this morning. I think she was hesitant to step on my toes, but I assured her that it wasn't an issue."

Santana's state of confusion was destined to be perpetual. "It's...not?" she questioned.

She thought it was a valid question. The definition of her relationship with Gabby was completely non-existent. She had no idea what to call it, so she was grateful that Quinn hadn't really asked that morning over breakfast.

Gabby's light, ringing laughter filled Santana's ears. "Of course it's not," she replied, turning towards the server as he approached to take their order.

Santana decided against questioning it. The more she knew - or even thought she knew - the more she realized that she knew nothing. At this juncture, words would just make things worse. So she ordered her lunch and went back to thinking while mutilating breadsticks.

Gabby didn't push anything for the rest of the lunch. She asked Santana about the people she went to school with and asked why she'd never heard Santana sing before. Gabby gushed over how amazing she sounded, and Santana blushed in her chair. It had been a long time since anyone had complimented her singing voice.

After lunch, Gabby excused herself to head back to the hotel for a soak in the hot tub and a few chapters of a trashy romance novel and Santana headed back to the reunion - solo.

When Santana pulled into the parking lot again, she made sure to park a good distance away from the school entrance. There was a soft breeze, and it felt good against her skin as she made the walk from her car. And the extra bit of time was exactly what she needed to think. Or clear her mind...

As she got closer, she saw a man's back leaning up against a car ahead of her. His hair was cut short, but he was tall and stocky, that much Santana could see from a distance. Before long, she was pulling even with the car, making her way just past it. She glanced to the side and finally got a better look at the man's face.

"Dave?" she questioned, stopping in her tracks and shoving her hands in her pockets.

David Karofsky's head snapped up and his eyes immediately locked onto Santana's. "Santana!" he exclaimed, pushing forward off of the hood of his rather nice automobile.

It was so nice, in fact, that Santana had a sneaking suspicion that Kurt had probably done the choosing...

"How are you?" Dave asked, quickly wrapping one arm around Santana's shoulders.

"Could always be worse," she replied. "Where's your man?"

"Catching up with Blaine, of course," he answered with a chuckle. "Those two really don't get to see each other enough."

Santana quirked an eyebrow, trying to dig for the sarcasm in that statement. She wasn't sure how'd she'd feel if her girlfriend was hanging out with their ex. She rubbed her forehead and nodded, just going with what he said. "What have you been up to?"

He chuckled. "I keep forgetting that you don't live here anymore." He offered her his hand for a shake. "Dave Karofsky, Ohio State Senator."

Santana chuckled, not quite believing it. "Really?"

He nodded with a smile. He started moving toward the door, bringing Santana with him. She kicked at the ground as she walked.

Dave noticed the awkward silence and took a chance, prodding, "So, how's it going? I saw you talking to Brittany earlier. I didn't want to interrupt."

That was definitely not the clearing of her mind she was looking for. Maybe - somehow - Santana was starting to accept that Brittany was destined to be a part of her life. No matter how hard she fought it. No matter how badly some tiny part of her wanted to just get up and move on.

No matter what, it seemed.

"Yeah," Santana said, attempting to adopt a tone of nonchalance. "We were just, ya know, catching up and stuff. We're having dinner later." She shrugged noncommittally.

"The woman you brought with you, she seems like a very sweet girl."

Santana glanced over, trying to gauge whether or not Karofsky seemed to be prying. Because the act of prying pretty much warranted an abrupt departure from the conversation on Santana's part. But his smile, it was kind - it reached his eyes, and it softened all of his facial features dramatically from the cold, scared jock with the slushies he had been in high school.

"She is," Santana answered.

He opened the door for her when they got to the entrance and followed her inside. The gym was set up less like a high school prom and more like a lounge. The plastic chairs were replaced with tall round tables that people were standing around, chatting. A bar adorned the wall to the right serving what looked to be virgin drinks.

"Oh god," Santana shook her head, "How many more days of this do we have?"

Dave chuckled. "C'mon. It's fun right?"

Santana quirked an eyebrow at him causing him to laugh harder.

"Hey Santana," Puck said, walking over from the faux bar. He nodded to the man with her, "Karofsky."

Dave smiled at him. "Hey Puck."

"Can I talk to you?" Puck asked, looking at Santana. He looked nervous.

Santana nodded and allowed herself to be directed off to the side of the room. She saw Lauren glance in their direction and immediately found herself relieved that she no longer had to worry about the other girl spinning her down the hallway on her face.

Hopefully...

"What's up?" she asked, turning to face Puck as he finally got them over to a secluded corner. She tried not to read too much into his obvious nervousness, despite how un-Puck-like it was.

"What are your thoughts on me proposing to Lauren on the last night of the reunion?"

Santana's jaw dropped. She knew that Puck and Lauren had been something of a pretty damn consistent couple since they joined forces junior year. But Santana had no idea that Puck would ever consider such... Domesticity.

And it seemed cliché - and cheesy and the antithesis of everything that the Puck she had made out with as sophomores inherently was. But Santana's jaw closed, and she thoughtfully tilted her head to the side as she really let herself mull the situation over.

This wasn't Puck. This was Puck-in-love-with-Lauren-Zizes. Exceptions to the rule always existed, and Lauren seemed to incite the continual breakage of Puck's lone stallion sixteen-year old persona.

Finally, after having that stunning realization, she grinned. "Get it."

He smiled back. "Really?"

"You've been with her this long," Santana smiled, happy for him.

He swept her up in an unexpected hug. "Will you go with me to pick out a ring? Tonight, maybe?"

"I can't tonight," Santana answered. She absently smoothed out her hair. "I'm having dinner with Brittany."

Another grin took over his face. "Oh yeah?"

Santana narrowed her eyes and pointed at him. "Don't give me that look. Nothing's going to happen. We're just going to talk."

"That's what you used to say in high school," he smirked, "And I walked in on you three times during one of your talks."

"You only walked in twice," she rolled her eyes.

"That you know of." He flinched when she hit him in the arm the second the words left his mouth.

"Such a perv," Santana muttered under her breath. She lifted her head and glanced across the room, easily catching sight of Brittany. A smile crossed her lips, and she ducked her head at the memory of exactly what it was Puck had walked in on them talking about.

"You love it," Puck replied, bumping his shoulder against Santana's. "So tomorrow then? We'll go down to the jewelry store, and you can help me not screw this up."

"I may be awesome, but even I can't guarantee you won't screw this up, Puck." She hoped that he was able to hear the joviality in her voice, that he could recognize that she was kidding. That maybe he knew exactly how much she valued his friendship - how much she had valued it since their time as friends in high school.

"Yeah yeah," he answered, and she knew he had understood perfectly.

He turned and walked back towards the group of glee club friends - congregated a few tables away from a bowl of punch (that had more than likely been spiked by Puck himself at this point). But Santana remained in the corner, leaning back against the wall. And it wasn't until the girl occupying her thoughts was suddenly locking eyes with her from across the room that she realized she had been caught staring - and blatantly so.

Brittany looked away bashfully. Santana couldn't have contained a smile if she wanted to. She instead ducked her head, allowing her hair to fall around her face for a moment before looking back up. Brittany was once again looking at her, but this time with a minuscule smile on her face.

Santana finally gave in and walked over to the blonde who was sitting at one of the regular-sized tables. As she neared, she found the table full of people she went to high school with - specifically, her fellow glee clubbers.

"Hey Santana!" Finn grinned at her with his usual dopey smile.

"Hey," she answered back, more quietly than she intended. She looked down at Brittany who was to her left and gestured to her leg that was propped up in a chair next to her, "How do you feel?"

Brittany took a deep breath and looked at her knee brace, "I'm okay."

"Good," Santana nodded.

"Here, sit," Brittany said lifting her foot and placing it on the ground with a visible wince.

Santana's brow furrowed, and she kind of hated the fact that Brittany was so easily able to tell her that she was ok - when she clearly wasn't. But there was a crowd around, and telling the truth is hard enough without spectators.

She'd get the truth out of the other girl before the night was over.

"I'm excited about tonight," Santana said, deciding that she would try a bit of honesty herself for a change. She leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. She picked at a loose paint chip on the arm of her seat - anything to keep from looking directly into those stunning blue eyes that had always been able to see straight through her.

But in the end, Brittany's lack of response and that prickling sensation at the nape of her neck won out, and Santana couldn't resist any longer. She looked up at Brittany through her long, thick eyelashes, and she couldn't help the soft smile that spread across her face at the sight she was greeted with. Because Brittany was smiling that smile and looking at Santana with those sparkling eyes, and Santana knew...

She knew she was a goner.

"So how's Seattle?" Artie asked from her right side.

She turned to talk to him, giving him the expected answer. "Cold and rainy."

He smiled and nodded like she just told him the right answer. Santana's eyes drifted back to Brittany as he asked her about something. else. She could see her hand constantly massaging the area right above her brace. So she reached down and took Brittany's ankle in both of her hands, gently lifting it and placing it in her lap. She looked hopefully at Brittany, "Better?"

Brittany nodded earnestly with a sentimental smile on her face. "Thanks."

Santana's inattentiveness to Artie's questions quickly caused him to lose interest. Instead, he turned to Brittany, asking her about life in Los Angeles and how her career had been going before her injury caused her to have to take a break.

Santana wanted to knock him out of his chair for asking, but Brittany had smiled - a smile that was sad and almost regretful, though Santana was sure she was the only one able to see it - and answered Artie anyway.

While listening to the story of Brittany's life, Santana found herself less interested in the details than maybe she should have. It would make sense, wouldn't it? For her to grasp at every single detail that she possibly could - about this life of Brittany's that she had no claim over, no stake in... Instead, Santana listened only to the soothing tones of Brittany's voice, and she found her fingertips caressing the bared skin of the other girl's ankle on her lap.

It had been intoxicating, holding Brittany's hand in her own when she had needed Santana. It had given Santana a sense of purpose, clutching Brittany to her chest in the backseat of her car.

But it was something entirely different, gracing her fingers over the soft, smooth flesh of Brittany's ankle for no other reason than her own sensory pleasure.

"Attention," Rachel's voice echoed through the gym. Everyone turned to her and tapered off their conversations. She smiled and looked over the group of her former classmates. "In a few moments we'll be having a few words from our junior prom King and" she paused to giggle, "Queen. As well as our senior king and queen. Even though they don't know it yet." She laughed at her own joke and added, "Also, I would like to bring it to everyone's attention that Noah Puckerman has spiked the punch. Enjoy."

"Would you guys like something to drink?" Artie asked, thumbing over his shoulder in the direction of the now certifiably spiked punch.

Brittany shook her head, and Santana knew that it wouldn't have been advisable for the dancer to drink with the pain medications she was on.

But there was something about touching Brittany's ankle - the feelings it was inciting that Santana would prefer it not - that made her nod her head and say, "Sure, Artie. I'll take a glass."

He had rolled away, leaving Santana and Brittany there - surrounded by their high school friends, but really alone in their own little bubble. It felt like high school again.

It was funny how that had been happening so much since she arrived back in Lima. But Santana supposed that it made sense.

"So how is Seattle, really?" Brittany inquired. "Aside from cold and rainy."

Santana chuckled, not surprised that Brittany hadn't been satisfied with such a generic answer. The generic answers had really never been enough for Brittany - not since she had asked why ducks sounded like they had head colds.

"It's...I like it there," Santana stated before giving in to the real probing that Brittany's eyes were doing. "Sometimes the rain is a little much, but that just means that I can stay in bed as long as I want on my days off and not feel bad." She smiled at the way Brittany giggled. "I have the most beautiful view of the bay from my apartment."

"Sounds nice," Brittany smiled, although it sort of tapered off at the end, fading into a smile of disappointment.

"What's wrong?" Santana immediately asked. The way Brittany's face fell, made her instantly riddled with worry.

Brittany shook her head as Artie rolled back to the table holding two cups of punch on a paper plate. He smiled proudly and presented the plate to Santana who took one of the cups. Then he took a sip of his own cup before wheeling off towards where Mike and Tina were sitting at the next table over.

Santana gripped Brittany's ankle more tightly with one of her hands, continuing to rub soothing circles against her ankle with the other. "Tell me," Santana implored.

"I just..." Brittany trailed off, uncertainty lacing not only her tone but also her posture as she seemed to physically slump in her chair. "I wonder," she continued, "what it would be like to see that view from your apartment." Santana's breath caught in her throat. "And then I get sad because...Because I realize that I don't really have any right."

"Any right to what?" Santana asked. She could already feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she took a long drink of her punch in an attempt to distract herself.

"Any right to wonder," Brittany replied, finally lifting her head enough to stare straight into Santana's eyes - into her very soul, it seemed. "Any right to consider what it'd be like if it was our place, our city, our view. Our home..."

Santana was at a complete loss. Her mind was racing with things to say, but none of them would manage to get out of her mouth. Finally, she opened her mouth, but before she could make a sound, Rachel walked over to them with a huge smile on her face. "Hey," she looked between them, her eyes settling on Brittany who had a fake smile plastered on her face. "I'm sorry to put you on the spot like that. You don't really have to give a speech or anything."

Brittany shook her head, her faux smile unmoving, "It's fine. I'll think of something."

Rachel reached down and squeezed Brittany's shoulder. "Thank you so much." Her eyes moved between them once again, ending on Santana, "You ladies have fun." She left with a parting wink to the brunette.

Santana took another - longer - drink of her punch. "So, a speech?"

Brittany nodded. "I know how you hate giving speeches. I can speak for both of us, if that's okay with you."

Eager to agree, Santana nearly choked on her drink. "Yes, please. I was probably the most awkward Prom King ever. You should definitely speak on my behalf."

Brittany smiled faintly, and it was definitely a real smile. It made Santana happy in a way that was hard to express, and a similar smile came across her own face as she was suddenly back in this very gym on the night of their senior prom. When Kurt and Karofsky had won the previous year, it had been something of a fiasco. But when she and Brittany had won a year later, it had been sweet and charming, and everyone had considered them to be the perfect couple.

It was almost funny - how Dave and Kurt were now married, but she and Brittany hadn't talked to each other in years.

"I wish I could dance with you," Brittany suddenly said. Santana followed her gaze to the dance floor where a few couples were dancing together. Then she glanced back down at Brittany's injured knee.

Santana didn't say anything. She just gave a small nod. Rachel called them to the stage only a few minutes later. Santana grabbed Brittany's crutches for her and handed them over, dutifully waiting for her to stand so they could walk up together.

Kurt and Dave were already standing with Rachel, Kurt with the microphone in his hand. He smiled and licked his lips, waiting for the girls to join them. Brittany finally hobbled around so that she could face the audience with a once more radiant and genuine smile.

Santana pulled Rachel to the side and whispered something in her ear as Kurt talked about high school and how it was a roller coaster for everyone. He talked about being young and falling in love, falling out of love, learning from your mistakes, and all of the other things that were inherently cheesy but accurate about the high school experience in general. And somewhere in the middle of his speech, Dave stepped closer, grabbing Kurt's left hand with his right.

Everyone applauded when Kurt was finished with his speech, bowing dramatically and passing the microphone off to Brittany.

Brittany had already given one speech - the day before when things at first started; it had been one of her duties as their senior class president. Her speech today, however, was short and sweet. And Santana was proud to stand at her shoulder as she gave it.

"Some of my happiest memories are of high school, times that I got to spend with all of you. I wouldn't give up any of it - not for anything in the world. Thank you all for being a part of that, for being part of something really, really special."

Their gathered classmates applauded loudly, and Brittany handed the microphone back to Rachel.

"And now," Rachel spoke happily into the mic, "a slow dance between our prom Kings and Queens!"

Brittany looked questioningly at Santana. Santana just smiled and offered Brittany her hand. That was when Brittany saw Sam and Puck walking over with two rolling computer chairs. A slow song came over the speakers, and the lights went down everywhere except the dance floor.

Santana could see the tears shimmering in Brittany's eyes as they sat down in their chairs. Santana picked up Brittany's legs, being careful with her injured knee, and rested them across her lap. Then she took Brittany's hand, placing one of her own on the blonde's waist, and kicked off so that they were gliding across the floor.

As they drifted around the dance floor in something of a pattern, Santana couldn't honestly say that she remembered the song - something that had been popular when they were in high school, something she had probably loved at the time. She didn't hear the lyrics. The beat didn't even really matter. Santana hardly paid any mind whatsoever to the crowd of onlookers. What mattered were the tears in Brittany's eyes and the smile on her face and the way her hand had reached out and laced those long, slender fingers with Santana's own. What mattered was that Santana felt at peace, and she didn't feel like that often anymore.

"This was always my favorite," Brittany whispered, leaning her forehead down to rest against Santana's shoulder.

"What, this song?" Santana asked, suddenly scrambling in her memory for the name of the musical selection.

Brittany lightly chuckled, a puff of air brushing against the underside of Santana's jaw. Santana shuddered in response, draping an arm around Brittany and pushing them across the dance floor. "No," Brittany replied, "Dancing with you."

Santana had realized earlier that she was a goner.

Now, she knew it for certain.


End file.
